As observed from a desk on the second floor of the second last building on the perimeters of a megapolis

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Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Poets In Us

If I could write even a smidgen of poetry I would be a neo-romantic. I had pictured myself as a nihilist, unsentimental realist in the vein of the deliciously cynnical Philip Larkin or an outspoken erratic Ted Hughes.

But there you have it...as I was reading Dylan's 'Poem in October' and 'Hunchback in the Park' it struck me with the force of a slap. Honestly, it was enough to turn my stomach. I am a nostalgic fool fervently pressing down, with gentle fingers, faded memories of my life back in Gulmohar Park, Delhi. Back when life was so amazingly uncomplicated except for a burden called school.

If I ever got around to writing that dratted book it would be about us - a pack of vagabonds flying kites near Harivansh Rai Bachchan's house hoping that one would snag and we would finally find out if Bachchanji really did have a rooftop swimming pool. It would be us carefully cultivating Famous Five and Secret Seven mannerisms, looking for hidden islands and obvious mysteries. Us, climbing trees and sending garbled torch signals house to house....us splattered across different cities, still in touch and so mundanely adult.

"And I saw in the turning so clearly a child'sForgotten mornings when he walked with his motherThrough the parablesOf SunlightAnd the legends of the green chapels.And the twice told fields of infancyThat his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine"- Poem in October (Dylan Thomas)

Why a venerable old gentleman should soak in a rooftop pool is anybody's guess but for us that was the epitome of all things unattainable - a rooftop that was was probably dotted with sodden junk and Amitabh's rusting baby pram - but we never did find out and perhaps it is better this way.

10 comments:

Do you remember that time when we all went on our cycles searching for the perfect park to ahve a picnic, and finally found one in Niti bagh. The next day when we reached there early in the morning, we found it overrun with huge pigs! And then we had to have our picnic in the b block Big park.Also remember the playing hide and seek in the new naalis near Misha's house. We went in there with torches etc..... till someone saw us and told all our parents! I remember sooo many things!! Like our grand X mas celebrations....... where gaks, chinks and me were permenantly the 3 kings....... and the gifts of bindis etc we used to get our parents!

I could not help but quote from my all time favorite, Wordsworth who wrote some heartrending poetry to express 'nostalgia': a. "...When oft upon that couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive moodThey flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitudeAnd then my heart with pleasure fillsAnd dances with the daffodils."

b. "But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the dinOf towns and cities, I have owed to themIn hours of weariness, sensations sweet,Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;And passing even into my purer mind,With tranquil restoration: -- feelings tooOf unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,As have no slight or trivial influenceOn that best portion of a good man's life,His little, nameless, unremembered, actsOf kindness and of love"Tintern Abbey By WordsworthSorry for the lengthy comment!

Poetry et moi; we just never seem to get on very well. It's one of those in Life that does not agree with my system at all. Don't suppose, now, that make me a romantic of some sort?!hablaconel.blogspot.com

Id it is: Lol..you knw I detested poetry...coz one has to perpetually read between the lines, Daffodils also has a 'spiritual significance' apparently. Btw why can't poets just say it like they mean it??? I think my favourite poets are Browning and Philip Larkin - no inner meanings thank ye - entertaining and straighfwd. Sorry for the lengthy comment..hehe:)

Sarla, Akur: Thank ye

Jumping T: Lol I know what you mean we are pretty much the same you knw - just trying to cut thru some inhibitions